In The Age Of Sophistication Poem by Somali Mukherjee

O, free me up, free me up;

I can no more stay fettered;

With the cute avian club,

I want the chains to get battered.



Poetry, my only means of communication,

Gifts me love and liberty;

Society's full of every instigation;

Satan tries to confine me.



The most pathetic music

Does sound the most melodious;

This life, though tragic,

Gifts me my pain, familiar and joyous.



Love comes more naturally than Hate

To each one of us, humankind;

Why then do we sophisticate

Our life that turns us blind?



Don't you smile in joy?

Don't you weep in pain?

Why then hide, my boy?

Why do people call us insane?



To bring the true feeling and

Act accordingly is sheer honesty;

Why do we then reprimand?

Why do we lose our modesty?



We belittle people;

But why? Why? Why?

Does that rumour ripple

Our hearts with joy,

Or do we have to sigh?



Can sadism bring us true

Joy at all, at all, for sure?

Why then they and you

And I don't care to endure?



We have forgotten to smile;

We have forgotten to cry in peace;

Every moment we're full of guile;

We fail to attain the truest bliss.



Let's be honest with all;

Let's love people with no purpose;

Let's answer Nature's call;

Boon shall shower on us.